


preliminary

by twofrontteethstillcrooked



Series: Star Wars snippetfic [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Futurefic, Goats, M/M, UST, snippetfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-07-29 10:29:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7680850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twofrontteethstillcrooked/pseuds/twofrontteethstillcrooked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Poe swallowed. For a short, shameful second a detailed dissertation sped through his mind. He saw himself giving an impassioned plea to General Organa that would keep Finn out of battle forever.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	preliminary

**Author's Note:**

> I've been writing a fair number of snippets on my phone, as exercises and most of all for friends and fun. It's possible I'll come back to something and turn it into or use it for a larger story, but for now I just wanted all the Star Wars ones in one place, so I started this series.

Daily duties being what they were, Poe seldom found himself visiting the livestock pens. Or never. Before today never would have been more precise. The fenced off yards, book-ended by two pre-fab barns, held a variety of farm animals and the occasional crop to supplement what was being grown over several nearby acres or imported from mostly black-market sources. Most of the ranchers and farm droids were at lunch. By one barn a lone grousing protocol droid was pruning the gourd vines dangling from an experimental hydroponic vat. 

In the yard nearest the other barn Finn was turned away, watching for something, his shirt damp at the collar and pulled tight across his muscular shoulders. Poe slowed down for a minute to better observe him, trying to keep his thoughts, if not precisely professional, then at least in the realm of those appropriate for an officer who had a legitimate reason to assess a fellow soldier's condition. 

As soon as it started to feel phony, which was pretty quickly, he stopped himself, shaking off the odd sensation in his stomach, his palms.

The pens around him smelled exactly like he'd expected them to, a potent combination of furry musks, vegetable feed, upturned earth, and rainwater. And dung, which Poe saw BB-8 was avoiding by rolling around with deliberate slowness. The droid nudged Finn's leg. Finn turned around and waved Poe over.

A pair of spotted red Endorian rabbits hopped across Poe's path towards their trough as he picked his way to the goat pen. When he came to the fence he leaned against it and waited.

BB-8 chirped at Finn, who took a long handled repulsorbroom and swept some distinctly manurish pebbles into a well-worn patch of grass. "Line of fire looking good," Finn said, walking back to join Poe at the fence.

BB-8 took off like they were being chased by disgruntled gundarks -- to be fair Poe had yet to meet a cheerful gundark -- and a meter or so from the closest barn a small orange and white goat shot out and bleated at them. BB-8 made a quick twirl and the kid twirled too, trying to head butt them but not quickly enough. BB-8 sped back down the path and made a victorious series of chirps, stopping at Finn while the pursuer caught up and jumped around in a jolly fashion, head butting everything: BB-8, Finn's shins, the bale of hay by the fence.

Finn grinned at Poe. "That one's the least runty runt who ever existed."

Poe crouched down and stuck his hand through the fence slats. The goat obliged him by nosing at his fingers and then complaining at finding them devoid of dried corn kernels or tato slices. When he stood up the goat flung herself at her sister, a brown and white kid in all ways better behaved and who suffered the ubiquitous head butt with its intended affection.

Poe easily hoisted himself up and over the short fence. Finn pushed the bale of hay nearer to the trough. "Eventually they'll figure out how to escape," he explained about the goats.

The orange one was trotting and twitching and bleating herself into a lather. Poe laughed and said, "That one seems too busy dancing to escape."

"Do you mind entertaining them for a minute?" Finn asked. "It's easier to change their water if they aren't trying to help."

While Finn filled a bucket Poe tipped the old water out of the trough onto the yard on the far side of the pen. The little goats sped over to the new stream as though he'd conjured them something magical, and bleated at him either in appreciation or disappointment before splashing around in the mud. 

Poe ran up along the fence line and they followed. He stepped up on a bale of hay and the brown and white goat jumped up beside him before falling off again in dramatic form. The sisters' head butts and additional dancing seemed to be a frantic conversation that ranged from "Oh no, evil hay!" to "This is awesome!" They each tried to conquer the bale but were distracted by BB-8 rolling nearby and chirping. Poe stepped down. The droid attempted to hide -- Poe could've sworn it was more like "hiding" -- behind Poe's legs and the goats would have none of it, chasing them out again. More bleating and beeping occurred.

Poe could see Finn's grin from across the pen. A pang of something Poe could not define hit his stomach again, and he had to look away.

He took the trough to its usual spot and sat it back down in time for Finn to pour in clean water. Small chores, Poe thought, sometimes felt more satisfying than big ones. Finn seemed to concur.

As BB-8 and buddy raced toward the barn again, Finn knelt to scratch the other goat's chin. She let him; if a goat's funny button eyes could convey ecstasy, hers did.

Finn also looked happy: content, healthy, nothing ashen or tense on his complexion, no grimace as he knelt. Nearly healed, therapy recently finished and training already started, not that he needed much since as far as they could determine he was already almost scarily well trained. The fresh air, goat scented or not, clearly agreed with him.

Poe swallowed. For a short, shameful second a detailed dissertation sped through his mind. He saw himself giving an impassioned plea to General Organa that would keep Finn out of battle forever. The resistance needed farmers as much as it needed fighters, after all; troop starvation was as untenable a game plan as just going ahead and surrendering to the increasingly vicious regrouped First Order. 

Finn was as likely to be good at agriculture as he was at everything. Or maybe he'd want to be a medic, or a trainer himself, a tech, lawyer, chef, engineer, the Resistance's newest designer of weaponry, bunk beds, or uniforms. And as anything other than a soldier he was far more likely to survive the war.

The unbidden thought struck Poe like a blast of heat: he would do anything to keep Finn safe. 

A split-second later, he recognized a larger truth, which was that even if he could truly do that, Finn wouldn't want him to. Poe knew that as much as he knew anything.

The moment passed. Poe took a breath, exhaled slowly. The Resistance -- he -- was indebted to Finn as much as they or he had ever been to anyone. Finn's presence and skillset and sheer force of bravery were invaluable. And Poe thought it was obvious _Finn_ needed to fight. If his training trajectory took him to its likeliest end, he'd be a captain in a matter of months, a major within a year. A commander ranking wasn't remotely out of the realm of possibility, especially if the conflict dragged on, which from this vantage seemed probable. Furthermore, Poe hoped Finn would say the Resistance had treated him well, as befitted the respect and honor he was more than due.

Maybe selfishly, Poe also hoped Finn wanted to stay for more than one reason, some perhaps more...personal than others. Personal goals he wished to achieve, friendships he wanted to maintain, and so forth. 

What Poe meant was that it would be fine, if Finn felt that way. Not that Poe was-- Not that he had any claim to-- 

Finn would always be welcome in the Resistance, was the point Poe was trying to make to himself without thinking the words "Always welcome in my home too," since, after all, Poe hadn't really been home in many months.

It was funny, the way the definition of a word like home could change over time.

"Poe?" Finn was touching Poe's elbow. His eyebrows were pulled down with worry.

He has the kindest eyes, Poe thought.

He shook his head. "Sorry, zoned out there." He gave a conciliatory smile.

Finn's eyebrows resumed a neutral position. The kindness in his eyes remained.

The two kids and BB-8 were exchanging goat chatter as Poe opened the gate to let them and Finn out. BB-8 seemed to have learned an approximate bleating noise as a goodbye. 

"That's going to be fun on missions," Finn said, tone wry. Poe gave a little snicker of agreement.

Walking next to him Poe could sense Finn looking at him out of the corner of his eye and waiting.

Poe kept his eyes on the path back to the tarmac. "So, after we eat Snap wanted to go over more on the preliminary list, and Bastian wants to start showing you basic X-wing repairs, you know, emergency situation stuff, if you're up to it."

"Of course," Finn said, cadence every bit a soldier's. He looked forward down the trail too.

BB-8 whirred along in front of them. Poe could hear the call and response of troops running a drill in the distance. Finn's hand brushed against his, fleetingly, a coincidence.

**Author's Note:**

> Clenster's [Star Wars + goats illustrations](http://clenster.tumblr.com/tagged/fanscribbles:%20sw) are some of my favorite things on planet earth, and were a direct inspiration for this. Also, she's the best. <333


End file.
